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September 2004 - Early Summer 2005: Post EoT Story
Part I Broadcasting Network Report: The last few defenders of the Galaxy: Jedi, Republicans, Imperials alike, found themselves outnumbered by the Chiss reinforcements. A species bent on the destruction of all opposition to their control, there seemed to be little hope for the Galaxy. Broadcasting Network Report: But, as always, in the darkest hours, heroes arise when most needed. Who would meet this new threat? How would the shattered governments recover? Would the Chiss be stopped? That is a story that has not yet been told. Perhaps, someday, it will be. '1 year later' Corellia, once the jewel of the galaxy's industry and commerce, home to the ancient company of Moonlight Industries, now home to something entirely different. The Chiss had settled there, the civilian populace sufficiently cowed into defeat and slavery after the events in space over the world a year before. Corellia, with the unwilling aid of an entire planets worth of labour became a fortress world, the likes of which the galaxy had ne'er seen before. The command ship Jurisprudence forming the lynch pin of these defences. The Chiss were secure; Kuat, Korriban, Coruscant destroyed. Hapes overrun, the last Republic Joint fleet annihilated, lost in a blaze of glory and fire over this very world. A year later, the last organised resistance crushed, the galaxy was theirs, and the Chiss were pleased. An elderly figure shambled through the behemothic gates of the Coronet Capital House. He gazed around the monstrosity of the building and sighed, so little of the ancient structure remained, overbuilt and overrun the building had sprawled to many times its original size. The figure coughed, then shivered as a cool breeze passed down the halls, shuddering he pulled his cloak around himself tighter. The cloak, t'was an aged thing, battered and worn it appeared to be part of the wearer, and seemed to be almost as old. The cloak was a faded bottle green and forest brown, its stiching revealed, its edges tattered and torn. Suddenly the figured coughed and retched, closing his eyes, his throat hacking, he steadied himself against a pillar. "Not.... now.... Not.... finished..... yet;" the being screamed silently to himself. He heard booted feet behind him, the reverbations of them growing in frequency upon the flagstone ground. The pressure of his hand had triggered an alert due to a sensor hidden behind the surface of the pillar. The footsteps slowed, he heard a crisp click behind him. An arm forcibly grabbed his shoulder, another pulling the cloaks hood back. The being slowly turned round,to view demonic red eyes, upon an ice blue face. Elsewhere "Damn it, whats taking so long?" A ripple of fur as a wave moved under a pile of cable and circuitry. A bothans head appeared, "you do know these things take time, Mariusz. And even though Coruscant's gone, I'm still the Director. Now keep an eye out and trust the best slicer in the galaxy, alright? I'm nearly finished....." Part II “They’re going to bloody find us, so they are. They’re going to find us and it’ll be bloody murder.” The speaker was a rather bulky man, leaning into the cabin or a small scurrg bomber, one arm on the doorframe, the other on the back of a pilots chair. The chairs occupant was also quite tall, strong, and wore ancient moulded green reinforced durasteel armour. The seated one turned back; “We’ll be fine, Sergeant Major. Just keep a cool head, just check your rifle and you’ll be fine.” The bulky man runs a hand through his curly black hair. “I’ve already checked my bleeding rifle, but it aint gonna do by the shee no good when that shitehead opens fire on us.” The person looks back towards the awaiting soldiers then up out of the cockpit window just up to the vast bulk of a warship looming above them. The Mandalorian follows his gaze…… “Oh shite.” Deep Space Feet pounded on the catwalk behind him, the click of heels approach a man in a sparkling white uniform. The man slowly waved a hand as a greeting, not turning, still facing through the panels to the depths of space. “I’m the last one,” he said. “My old friend, I am the last. Arbat, Sanshiro -he taught me all I know- and now the rest are gone as well.” The quiet clicking, as well as something almost, chittering behind him continued as he then turned, to view a Verpine, robes draped around his glossy exoskeleton. The creature spoke, “Yes we have indeed sacrificed so much, so many lost comrades, allies, friends.” The Verpine sighs once again, “and there will yet be more to come. One final day of sacrifice, one last day of loss. Then it will all be over. For good or ill.” The Verpine chittered once more, stamping his feet as he moved to join his friend at the ovservation window. “Remember what the Bear once taught us about where we are.” The Verpine opened a long claw. Tracing it under the guidance bar, picking up grit. He holds it up to the light, staring at it. “The dust in this space, this system, where we are now. It is written upon by history. Time has scrawled minute traces upon it, leaving its story. The story of out there, my friend. And here, where this ship is. Where an engineering company defied an Empire. And won. We stand here, now today, at another turning point of history. And though there will be much sacrifice. We will be victorious as they were before.” The human turned to look at the verpine, nodding before staring out into space, across the vest expanse to where Corellia lied. He breathed, “Republic Martyr…..” Part III The cold reflection shimmered and disappeared as the helmet tilted. "Venerable one, you are ill?" The helmeted soldier approached, his visage hidden behind the dark mask. The cloaked figured wrapped himself oncemore, silently cursing with inner revulsion at the face staring back from the black visor. He slowly shook his head, struggling to hold back another wracking cough. "I had taken a walk, it would appear I am a little lost. I am here for the reception and public audience with the Noble Lords." The Chiss guard stepped forward, "As was expected, Old One. Do you have your disk?" We shall take you to your place. We shalt not want you to get...... lost again...." The figure in the cloak reached inwards, producing a small message disk. "A moment of truth," the figure thought, as he handed the disk to the guard. After inserting it into his datapad, the helmet tilted once more. "Come with me." Slowly they led the old figure away. "This is not the way to the public audience chamber...." The Guard turned to him but kept walking, increasing the pace. "It is not......" The bothan sucked his fingers, then shook his hand. “You know, that’s the problem with computers, they have this annoying tendency to be powered by electricity.” A tall firrerreo watching from the corner chuckled. “Did I not tell you a long time ago not to underestimate the currents affect on all things?” The bothan muttered then resumed his work, quietly he whispered to the Firrerreo “Where’s Mariusz?” A dull thump falls beside the bothan, who turns to see a body, skin blue, marked by red blood. A khommite then stepped out of the shadows, “Chiss technician, heard him walking down the corridor. It would appear we are running out of time.” The Firrerreo then gazed at the fallen body, “Tribe Xharain thanks you.” Ignoring this, the bothan resumed his work by raising up 2 large cables, electricity arcing between them. Carefully, he united the cables. “Done, lets hope this works….. And this is supposed to be the easy part….” “Your fleet is rearmed, reloaded and ready, Admiral. The last fleet of the free worlds.” The Admiral sighed slowly at this news, “1 capital ship and a gaggle of freighters with assorted fighters squadrons…. Not like the fleets of old…” He stopped, as he watched a group of ships pass by the view window, TIE’s screaming past in formation escorting them. “Ah, Vaery’s and all that remains of the industrial power of Kuat Drive Yards.” The 8 Marauder corvettes swung back once more before coming to rest to the starboard of the fleet. The Fleet Admiral sighed, glancing once more at the halo of ships surrounding his cruiser. The Verpine looked towards the Admiral, “it is time.” Respectfully the human nodded, half sighing as he turned from the window and marched slowly, purposefully down the catwalk. Leaning over onto a com console, he took a deep breath as he flipped the main switch to active. “All ships this is Fleet Admiral Roth of the New Republic. The command is GO. Proceed to the Rendezvous point outside the system. I repeat the command is GO. May the Force and whatever powers you believe in be with you this day, or there may not be another.” “Oh shite…..” The Jurisprudences’ aft hangar began to slowly open. Even with the dead silence of space they could still imagine the slow grinding of the mammoth gears. The Lord Mandalore nudged the invisible bomber towards the vast command ship. He noticed on the cockpits window that the reflection had changed, no longer it showed the genial face of the Sergeant. Instead it was replaced by a dark, hard lined face in gleaming white armour, a mask -once the symbol of terror for the galaxy- hung limply off a clip on his belt. The man spoke, his voice deliberate, clipped and crisp. “And now we shall stand and draw blades, Drake. However this time, we shall be fighting upon the same side.” Mandalore - Drake nodded, “Yes, Daishi, since defending the surface of Corellia was denied to us, our revenge shall be here.” The cloaked ship passed through the force field surrounding the hangers entrance, its hull shimmered as the cloak dropped. But, the landing struts were already lowered and the hatch opened. Surprised, the chiss engineers and pilots drew their sidearms. They were not ready for the coming storm…. Repeater rifle lashed from behind the ships hatch as the onslaught began. The Mandalorian and the Imperial raced forward, each ones honour demanding that they pushed themselves onward the furthest. They fell upon their foes, blades glistening in the artificial light of the bays. With Drake and Daishi engaged with the foe, supporting fire was no longer required and the Dathomiri Sergeant left the ship, rifle raised with slow controlled busts of fire. A group of chiss lunged at him, armed with heavy bludgeons and tools. Countercharging, the Dathomiri screamed, no longer firing his rifle he revered it, wielding as if it were a heavy club. He dived into combat, shouting in his ancient tongue, the fury of his ancestors a part of him, he fought as if the very heroes of Dathomir were standing by him…. Drake and Daishi were now fighting back to back, parrying their foes attacks like the warriors they were. Even with their martial strength, their experience it was not enough. They were slowly losing ground, a step at a time, they were being pushed back towards the ship. A chiss on the gantry lined his target, a clear shot at Daishi’s exposed skull, one that could not be dodged, could not be parried…. A single shining green shot lanced out at that chiss from inside the scurrg, dropping him over the walkway to his death. Drake and Daishi were being overrun! No matter their individual might, the Chiss security detail were simply too many for two beings. An outline somersaulted through the air, landing behind the chiss detail. Slowly, but noticeably the pressure on the two warriors decreased. They began regaining their ground, moving forward once more. Assailed on two sides the Chiss couldn’t adequately defend themselves as the blades of the soldiers, methodically jabbed into the necks of the chiss and between their armour plates. Drake saw a large blade appear from the gut of the chiss now in front of him, bloody dripping from it. The body slid forward and slumped to the ground to reveal not a chiss, but a twi’lek standing before him. “Decided to finally put down your cup of caf and join in, Pakua?” The twi’lek shrugged, sheathing his blades. The Dathomiri sergeant returned, quietly humming to himself, casually polishing his rifle. The twi’lek shrugged at Drake once more. “Needed Jach to double check with Sak to make sure your bill had come through.” A voice whispered behind the group, a Rodian slowly made his way forward, spinning a pistol on his suckered fingers; “We might as well go to ground now, before the next detail arrives. They won’t be pleased with the mess we caused her.” The Rodian snorts at a chiss lying bloody on the ground, before turning his eyes to the corner of the bay. “Your Intel people have said that theres a service tunnel leading off this way…..” Part IV Naboo, once a thriving world, once known throughout the galaxy for its beauty had changed. The nerve plague had devastated the populace and had cowed the survivors into docility. However, not all were defeated, for a glimmer of the flame of hope lay on Naboo. A man and his wife, secretly, fiercely guard those embers. And they helped fan them till they grew into flames. Perhaps the Decanon family, for that was their name lit the fire in the first place then let the fire fuel and grow as it could? By the actions of a man and a twi’lek flames would once more engulf Naboo, not the twisted fires of destruction, by the cleansing, purifying flame of freedom. The blue vortex wheeled over, above and around them .They seemed alone now, a solitary ship lost oin the infinite that is hyperspace. The admiral’s’ hand tensed then relaxed. The end of a long journey was coming to him. A cry from a station behind him. “Navcompt reports 5 seconds.” The human admiral glanced towards the verpine, who then uttered naught but 3 words. “And so it begins.” Morton shook his head. “And so it ends…” The ship lurched and all around fell to black as if a dark sable curtain had dropped over them. Almost instantly pinpricks of light broke through that veil. But those peaceful ever twinkling sparks of light were not alone, soon ere they were accompanied by stabbing lances of green and red. For battle was now, in earnest joined. The outer ships of the chiss picket were fighting with desparation for their very lives. Who darest challenge the Chiss rule? From whence hadst this fleet come from? It was as if an avenging arrow from the past had been launched through time to strike at the very epicenter of the Chiss, with the Liberatus as arrows tip. But the chiss armour was thick, and it could yet turn aside this bright arrow of hope. “Launch all squadrons, all ahead full. We can’t let ourselves become bogged down by these pickets. We must strike at its heart. All ships full speed ahead.” Vaery’s marauders banked o’erhead as they turned towards one of the larger chiss ships defending the outer ring. Marauder corvettes, freighters, naught but flies against that might capital ship. Nay, not flies - but waps with a venomous sting. One of Vaery’s ships fell back, a deep wound rent upon its hull. But the others pressed on into deaths cloud, bright laser fire guiding their path through chaff, missile, wreakage and flare until their target was no more. Exulted they flew onwards. But from deaths cloud they had passed hence on to deaths storm. And it was into this storm that the fleet flew. The outer ring had been defeated but the battle had barely begun. And still, the innermost defence rings, the orbital stations, Dermawns ship lay there dull in darkness, silent and deadly, drawing Morton and his fleet e’er onwards, perhaps to its doom. They led him through the labyrinthine corridors of the underworld beneath the capital building. Him following their every step, beckoning ever onwards by the two guards - or captors? His senses were lost, the corridor ever turning, spiralling, more confusing than even the shifting forest paths of his home. One final sharp turn and he was face to face with an elaborate security checkpoint patrolled by several armed guards. “This way, venerable one….” If they knew his identity, why the pretence? Why the long walk? Why the game? The barrier raised, the security guards saluted. He was guided through the gates. “Our apologies, old one but…. Our security measures….” Holding back yet another racking cough, he nodded. The Chiss guard continued; “We must issue you a security pass for entry.” The figure replied quietly, steadily, his voice not betraying a hint of the relief he felt. “I understand, Sirs. One can never be too careful in this runt of a galaxy.” He was led to a computer terminal, a palm print receiver centred upon it. He took a breath praying that the synthskin wouldn’t betray him. The light upon the monitor turned green - He sighed. “Our thanks, Venerable S’ssilianius. You may accompany us further.” Part V Echoes of the past had not only reached Corellia but on Naboo as well. Voices out of the past had called to its people. With its flames burning bright, an unanimous call went up in one joined voice. A single word - freedom. And the chiss were afraid. From fens and forests came the warriors of light, their day long awaited. No longer they feared the arsenal of the chiss, who’s chief weapon had always been terror. Their grenades flew, the gasses spread but the flame of freedom could not be cowed so easily. Through the streets of Theed the chiss were herded back, no cover, no shelter they found for the people were against them. For under the guidance of Aramus the chiss could not stand. All o’er the world the chiss fled back to the spaceports and their ships. However, not even there in their metal flying bastions were they truly safe for there was still one last sabacc card left to play. Many times many years had Aramus lived on Naboo, through the dark times of the Sith, to the Empires rule, where he and his wife Vorfalath had led the Rebel Alliance to its final victory, this world was his own and its secrets were known to him. As the dread ships of the chiss launched from a long dormancy something was activated, known only to those who had laboured during the dark times many years ago; the planetary shield arose. The chiss had nowhere else to run for they were trapped and Naboo - at last - was free. He could see them in front of him, upon the dais, the leaders of the Chiss, the leader of the army…… There was only one seat missing, the leader of the Chiss fleet, the thrice damned Dermawn. His time will come soon enough, the figure thought. “Noble ones on this day of the anniversary of our victory I present to thee, S’silia-anaveron, venerable warrior so that we may remember the millenia of trials and training that led to our victory here one year ago. The army commander stood up, spreading his arms majestically. “Indeed, it is customary for us to honour those that have served our people, no matter how long ago they served. What boon would this old warrior wish of us? The figure felt the nudge of the guard at his side. Dutifully he took his step forward. He looked up upon the dais once more, his wrist twitched, the familiar metal once more falling into his hand. Rythean Straight silver, kept safe all these years, through the rise of the Empire, Incom, the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic. He raised his arm, almost as to a salute. His fingers touched his neck at the nigh unnoticeable synth-skin border. Peeling away the skin he turned as his hand released. The silver knife flew straight and true, embedding itself into one of his guards necks. He continued his revolution, forcing his body into the second guard, years of practice allowed him to disarm his fow, now lying stunned aside the corpse of the other. Colm Corbec raised his liberated rifle to his shoulder, it facing the Chiss Army Commander Telath. He smiled a grim smile. He glanced to the rooms perimter, the guards stationed there were raising their own weaponry, slowly, so slowly……. “To die knowing our work is done.” 2, 4, 8 shots, the bodies slumped forward over the table. The chiss High Command were no more… He heard several clicks…. His legs gave way and he fell to his knees, hearing no longer. Are you holding them off?” “Course we are, Sir, these fellas are nothing.” Drake focused upon the Twi’lek who was contentedly continuing to cut away at the door. “Ready…..” Drake raised a booted foot and with a thunderous kick he stepped upon the Jurisprudence’s bridge. Glancing round, assessing, he focussed on the central command chair. It revolved to allow its occupant to face him and raised his pistol. He stared into the cold being that possessed that seat of command. “A year ago, you made a promise to me, Dermawn. I got fed up waiting for you, now it seems that you’ll never be able to fufill it.” The hard eyes continued to stare at the Mandalorian, totally calm, completely collected, not a hint of fear and they continued to stare….. Long after the life behind them was extinguished…… - Written by Compel Category:Eras